Page 115 - FDCC Pandemic Book

Living in a Pandemic: A Collection of Stories on Coping, Resilience & Hope
the career she had loved, she had donated over 50 boxes of material to a teachers’ co-op, and the garage is clean and safe. It was a painfully slow process, but that process allowed her to feel respected and it established trust. In the months since, we have been able to build from that foundation of trust to make larger changes and become a bigger part of her life and her health care.
Time spent caring for your parents may be frustrating, stressful, and even heartbreaking. But with patience, we also found endearing moments to offset the frustrations and to hold close to our hearts in the years when they’re gone.
LESSON 4 – I CAN’T DO IT ALL.
Once my mother moved in with us, I was responsible for meeting her needs, overseeing her medication schedule, coordinating her in-home physical and occupational therapy appointments, and ensuring that her PT exercises were completed faithfully and correctly. These responsibilities were added to an already full plate of meeting client needs and helping run a law firm from my home in the middle of a pandemic. Despite the increasing stress, my daily mantra for the first week of my mother’s recovery was “I’m Fine--Everything is Fine.”
My oldest and closest friend, April, is an assistant professor at the University of Tennessee’s College of Social Work. She also leads a team at Vanderbilt’s Comprehensive Assessment Program for Professionals—a program that offers comprehensive psychological evaluation and recommendations for professionals experiencing mental health struggles. In addition to her professional understanding of the toll that stress can take on doctors and lawyers, she also has aging parents.
The day after mom’s fall, April offered to fly to Phoenix and help. Her summer schedules at both UT and Vanderbilt were light, and the few classes she was teaching were being conducted via Zoom. But I declined her offer. I didn’t want her to have to fly across the country and risk exposing herself to the virus, especially since I was still telling myself “I’m Fine--Everything is Fine.”
One week later, my daughters called April to tell her that I was a liar, and that no matter how loudly or frequently I insisted that the situation was under control, it absolutely was not. The next time April called, I accepted her offer.
A few hours later, I sent her a text message:
“Fair warning: my house is a mess. I’m a mess. Everything is a mess.”
Her response:
“That meets my expectations. I’m at the gate to board my flight from Nashville.”
Her simple acceptance that it was OK that things were falling apart allowed me to
110